


Heart (listen to its beating)

by enterprisecat



Series: Elements [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Crew as Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Melds induced orgasms, Mind melds, Recovery, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:32:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enterprisecat/pseuds/enterprisecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which: Jim is still broken but makes a huge step toward recovery, Spock loves with his whole heart, Nyota watches "Doctor Who", Bones is angry (but is still the best friend there is), Chekov wears someone's T-shirt and sex is mind-blowing (literally).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart (listen to its beating)

Warmness.

 It’s what Jim feels. The kind of which you can feel early in the morning when it’s raining outside but there is still time for a couple of hours of sleep. Or when the first day of spring comes, after long and hard winter, and you come outside wearing light jacket for the first time in months and bath in the sunlight.

Pleasure.

It’s a pleasure that comes from being close to someone you missed a lot. Or living your dream. Achieving your most ambitious and less realistic goal after long and hard work.

Safety.

It’s a feeling of safety that… Well, Jim doesn’t know where a feeling of safety as strong as what he feels could come from, he has never experienced it before, for the first time in his life feeling an absolute calmness.

It’s indescribable.

Unbelievable.

Jim opens his eyes into semi-darkness of an unknown room and blinks, trying to recognize the shadowy outlines of furniture in vain.

Spock lays close to him not quite touching, but Jim knows how content the half-Vulcan is; he feels it running through his body, intensifying Jim’s own happiness.

“Hey?” Jim says. “Is that real?” he asks and closes his eyes waiting for a response, for a second terrified the beautiful dream will end.

He hears Spock shifts beside him and a warm hand touches his cheek.

“It is very much so,” Spock whispers. “Although even I have to admit that I am finding it hard to believe.”

Jim catches Spock’s hand realizing suddenly that he has no idea how much passed between the meld their shared on a dirty road behind the house and this moment.  It should scare him but somehow it doesn’t matter, not now. There will be time for asking questions later.

Much later.

He caresses Spock’s fingers, outlining every single one of them, smiling when he hears a quiet sigh of pleasure coming from the Vulcan.

“Hand kink, huh, my source wasn’t wrong after all,” Jim grows bolder and uses his tongue to trace lines on the Spock’s palm when the Vulcan gently but decisively takes away his hand only to lean down and kiss Jim. It’s hard, without a single trace of uncertainty, Spock’s hot tongue exploring with a ferocity and need Jim wouldn’t expect from a Vulcan. Surprised and more than a little aroused he yields, letting his bond mate to undress him, to touch and lick inspect every centimeter of his body with unfaltering attention.

It feels strange, to have someone so focused and intent on giving him pleasure instead of taking what he wants without care. To feel so cherished, so precious as if there was no one and nothing more valuable than Jim himself.

Spock pauses in planting butterfly kisses on the inside of Jim’s tight and raises his hand to look at him.

“There is not, Jim,” he says quietly and without a single warning shifts his attention to Jim’s cock, giving it an experimental lick along the shaft. Jim arches to the touch, his body reacting instinctively, hungry for more but Spock holds him down easily and licks again, teasing.

“Oh, come…” the sentence turns into incoherent mess when Spock decides it’s time for the real act and swallows Jim’s cock with easiness rarely seen in the first-timers. There’s no time for wonder as Jim realizes the true meaning of having sex with a telepath, which aside from being perfect, makes you come in embarrassingly short time.

Jim’s hoarse moan is the only warning for Spock who doesn’t let go, only sucks harder and soon he is coming in short spurts in Spock’s mouth. The half-Vulcan tries to swallow, chokes a little, retreats and spits on the floor in unusual display of untidiness. Jim simply observes him with a smile, utterly spent, bathing in the glory of post-orgasm haze for a moment longer before he reaches to Spock only to discover there’s nothing to be taken care of, wetness on his lover’s regulation briefs the only remains of remnant of his arousal.

Spock shifts uneasily, looking vaguely embarrassed.

“I did not expect how strong you would broadcast your sensations,” he explains. “Next time I shall shield myself more strongly.”

Jim blinks in utter bewilderment until something in his brain clicks into a place.

“You came from my orgasm?” he asks with wide-eyes. “That’s so hot!”

Spock’s lips twitches. “I would rather stayed with more traditional methods.”

Jim laughs and reaches with his hand which Spock takes immediately and kisses it gently, his happiness and satisfaction slipping through the bond.

“C’mere,” Jim mumbles and pats the bed beside him, observing with contentment how Spock obliges without a word, curling around him and letting the blanket stay on the floor.

Jim falls asleep to the steady beat of his lover heart.

When he wakes up the room is full of light but Spock is still laying beside him, warm and broadcasting contentment in a way Jim’s childhood cat used to do.

“I can assure you that Vulcans do not purr,” Spock informs him calmly as if listening to their lovers thoughts was the most normal thing under the sun.

“Oh, really?” Jim shifts so he hovers over the half-Vulcan, smiling teasingly. “Do the Vulcans moan then? Or scream?”

Spock’s eyes widen marginally. “We shall check it.”

Jim freezes for a second, not quite believing what he heard and feels a wave of joy coming from Spock.

“You’re laughing!” he accuses. “You teasing bastard.”

He leans down to kiss him, gently, but Spock has other ideas, his tongue hot and demanding, not so gentle scrape of his teeth making Jim gasp. He breaks the kiss only to travel further down, planting butterfly kisses on the collarbone and focusing on nipples. After a minute or so of kissing, licking and delicate biting he frowns and take a look up only to discover a gentle curiosity on Spock’s face.

“No?” he asks shortly, knowing his lover will understand. Spock simply raises one eyebrow in this I’m-shrugging-right-now way.

“Okay,” Jim murmurs and shifts his attention Spock’s to navel, immediately rewarded with a very quiet  but clearly born from pleasure sigh coming from the half-Vulcan.  He uses it mercilessly, teasing with his tongue for a moment but soon he’s going down, his curiosity too big to let him focus on anything else.

Thankfully this part of Vulcan anatomy doesn’t really differ from a human’s ones; Spock’s cock is lean and long, slightly thinner than Jim’s and greenish. Contrary to legends from the Academy campus it’s not flashing so after a second Jim gently takes it into his hand, half expecting some crazy reaction but the only things he gets is a gasp from Spock. He tries to listen not only to the pattern of Spock’s breathing but feelings coming through his bond as well, and soon Spock’s breathing becomes more erratic, his body meeting Jim’s touch half-way. That’s when Jim stops, backing away a little, followed by faint surprise and displeasure.

“I want you to fuck me,” he announces quietly and for a single, absurd moment he’s sure Spock will decline and leave him alone. Gentle touch makes him glance at Spock, who is looking at him, his pupils dilated, faint blush spreading on his cheeks and neck. They look at each other for a moment, both breathing hard, both aroused and wanting more.

When they kiss it’s more a clash of teeth and tongue, bearing no finesse or grace of the previous ones. Jim doesn’t know how and when Spock has him on display, legs spread wide but he doesn’t care because there’s nothing in the whole world he wants more right now than the touch of Spock’s fingers inside him.

He stifles the urge to hiss when Spock moves too quickly but he can’t help broadcasting his discomfort through the bond; the half-Vulcan reacts immediately, slowing down, his movements more gentle and careful and once again Jim simply opens himself to the touch, enjoying every single second of it. Yet soon it’s not enough, the combination of Jim’s own arousal mixed with Spock making him want more and now.

“You, now,” he murmurs, unable to construct anything more coherent. He senses Spock’s hesitation so focuses on his need and want, soon enough feeling how Spock gently retreats his hand.

“Wait,” Jim mumbles and shifts his position so he lays on his back now. “Wanna see you.”

They stay like this for minute longer, the faint smell of sex and Vulcan’s version of lube, procured by Spock from some secret place, surrounding them.

“There is one more story about Vulcans and sex…” Jim says and Spock smiles, the lightest twitch of his lips and yet unmistakable.

“This one is true,” he responds, his voice promising and reaches with his hand, touching the meld points on Jim’s face.

When he enters Jim is both his body and mind, in the very same time.

They find the rhythm almost instantly, no awkward moments, no searching for the golden mean.

“Fuck,” Jim whispers hoarsely. “Fuck.”

Spock simply moans in answer, his whole body tensing, movements sharp and quick. Jim wants to search for Spock’s hand when a dam opens in his mind. Jim moans, momentarily overwhelmed by sensations, the warmness of having another person’s presence in his mind magnified, his body being entered and entering as Spock’s emotions and feelings mix with his own. Spock falters for a second, hesitating but Jim buckles his hips, forcing him to move, his need to great for any delicacy.

When Spock’s thrusts one last time and shudders in orgasm Jim can’t help but follow him immediately.

He might be screaming but it can be Spock, or maybe both of them, their minds and bodies connected in one absolute perfection, their orgasms hard enough to leave them breathless and unable to change their positions. It’s Spock who first comes into his senses and shifts, making Jim aware that they might went a little too rough. He stretches slowly, the feeling of his own body slowly coming back to him, Spock’s emotions and sensations faint and muffled somewhere in the back of his mind. He can’t help but be thankful for that, his mind still oversensitive after their meld.

“Was it too much?” Spock asks instantly and for a moment Jim is lost, unsure of his lover asks about sex or meld only to realizes that it doesn’t matter- the answer remains the same anyway.

“No,” he says decisively. “Definitely no.”

He snuggles into Spock, paying no attention to the mess they made; they can shower later after all, for now the only important thing the warm body beside him. He focuses on the feeling of satisfaction, knowing that even though Spock is shielding his emotions he’s still wide open to receive his.

Spock changes his position, making space for him and Jim very pointedly doesn’t think that they are in fact cuddling. The youngest Starfleet captain and the best first officer the world has ever seen spooning with each other after session of mind-blowing sex. That syrely would be the headline of the year.

“Jim?” Spock asks, when Jim chuckles quietly at his thoughts.

“I’m just thinking how impossible all of this is, you know. If I told me year ago that we will end like this, would you believe?”

The half-Vulcan tenses against him and shifts minutely so their bodies are no longer touching on the whole length.

“Captain, if you find this situation distasteful…” he pauses when Jim kisses him very lightly on the lips.

“For a touch telepath you can be strangely little perceptive. Spock, you know I was never angry at you, not really. I felt lost for a moment, unsure but I was never, ever angry,” Jim sits up and leans on the wall. “Yeah, it could go better and I wish you told me earlier but in the end you helped me and you’re still helping me and I trust you, Spock. I know you won’t use this thing between us against me.”

He gets a little choked at the end, feeling utterly vulnerable; admitting his own trust still comes way too hard to him.

 “Jim,” Spock says gently and reaches toward him, two fingers shaped into a Vulcan kiss. Jim meets him half-way, pressing lips against the tips of his fingers, a strange mix of Vulcan and Human traditions, a perfect seal for their relationship.

They are both sitting awkwardly, Jim’s muscles already protesting against strange position but he feels like he could spend like this an eternity. Okay, maybe not exactly like this, but the eternity should totally involve touching Spock.

It’s a loud stomach rumble what interrupts them; Spock freezes for a second, looking so guilty that Jim can’t help but burst out laughing. He grabs Spock’s hand and kisses it lightly once again, reluctant to leave the bed but Spock seems to made the decision as he is standing up quickly, his lean body in full display. Jim swallows and fights the urge to jump Spock and forget about hunger and various other body needs.

He finally drags himself under the shower alone when it becomes apparent that Vulcans don’t understand the appeal of showering together. Which definitely needs to be changed to the nearest possible future but for now Jim is content with scrubbing himself clean while humming softly and decisively off-key, his mind clearer, conscience lighter than it was in weeks.

Spock is waiting for him in the kitchen, perfectly neat, not a single hair out of place, dressed in regulation blacks, not a single sign betraying the session of literally mind-blowing sex he had less than hour before. Jim blinks at this sight, for a single second frightened that everything that happened between them is a mere figment of his imagination, a beautiful  but entirely untrue dream, but then Spock’s lips twitch in the almost-smile. Their hands brush when Jim reaches for his cup of tea, the simple touch lingering a little too long to be accidental and that’s enough to make Jim certain again.

“There are several messages waiting for you, Jim,” Spock announces calmly and takes a bite of unidentified, bright red fruit. It practically explodes with juice forcing the half-Vulcan to lick his lips clean, a vision Jim definitely wants to see more. Preferably under slightly different circumstances.

“Jim,” Spock repeats calmly, one of his eyebrows arched minutely.

“Yeah,” Jim clears his throat. “I’ll answer after the breakfast. And I should call Bones.”

He knows his friend is, to put it mildly, displeased with Jim’s action, even though he tried not to show any signs of his bad mood the last time the spoke. Jim’s own great mental disposition should make the whole conversation much easier to live through. He takes last bite of his toast covered with thick layer of Vulcan equivalent of honey, thicker and intensively purple, smiles to Spock who still fights with his fruits and wanders off to use the computer terminal.

As it turns out Bones didn’t left any messages, only Nyota and Sulu which confirms Jim’s worries about Leonard being furious with him. He reads through them, thinks about composing replies to them only to give up and initiate a video connection with his own computer, hoping Bones stayed in his flat as per usual. For an unknown reason he really dislikes his own flat, despite being much cleaner than Jim’s. He waits for reply knocking his fingers on the wooden table-top in display  of nervous habit.

„Bones,” he smiles when his friend finally appears on the screen, wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and rather gloomy expression on his face.

“Jim,” he nods his head. “How do you feel?” he adds immediately, his fears for Jim’s well being magnified even more by recent events.

“Bones, I know you’re angry,’ Jim says instead of answering. “I’m sorry. And I feel much better, I promise, I truly am fine, you can ask Spock if you don’t believe me.”

Bones shakes his head in exasperation but gives Jim a short smile, only to turn serious moments after. “Yes, I’m angry,” he says and sighs. “I’d ask you to promise not to do anything like this ever before but I’ve learnt my lesson during the first year of Academy.”

Jim smiles brightly, covering up his emotions. He can apologize properly after they come back to Earth, for now Bones not longer being inclined to torture him with hypos is enough. “I always knew you’d learn one day.”

“Go answer Nyota’s message, she’s waiting with her PADD at ready,” Leonard instructs him harshly and gives him and more careful look. The last thing Jim sees before the connection ends is a strangely embarrassed expression on his friend’s face.

Nyota answers immediately- she must have really waiting with her PADD beside her

. „You have to know you’re the first person I’m replaying to,” Jim announces with warm smile, with small surprise discovering how much he missed the sight of his brilliant communication officer.

Nyota rises one perfect eyebrow in a very Spock manner; apparently the time they spent together has some effect not only on him but her as well, though it could be just Nyota herself.

“I’d yell at you if I didn’t know Spock had to carry you from the airport,” she informs him coldly but her smile is warm and fond. “How do you feel?”

Jim wonders for a moment. He is sore and aching all around, in place that most definitely shouldn’t be legally painful but he can hardly inform Nyota about it so he settles with a shrug and yet another smile.

“Are you angry at me?” he asks instead.

 “I am, you know,” she answers, playing with lock of loose for once hair. “But my parents taught me to never grin the faces of the poor so this time you’re lucky. Seriously though, Jim, Spock was freaked out and I’ve never thought I’d use this expression while talking about him. Are you really fine?”

Jim licks his lips. Nyota was always surprisingly hard to lie to, for which Jim has always blamed the fact that she saw him in his worst the very first minute of their acquaintance. It only got worse after she decided to treat him as a friend rather than the most annoying Academy colleague on Earth. He really does feel better now, the old cliché of healing sex apparently true in at least some part, his emotions soothed by happiness of getting together with Spock.

“I am,” he says decisively.

 “Yeah, sure,” she snorts and shakes her head. “In case you didn’t know most people get dizzy on New Vulcan at first, it’s because of a lower oxygen level and neither of them gets to be seen by a healer, not to mention that said healer actually alarmed Spock to come and get you. Although you do look good now,” she gives him a long look and frowns a faint blush covering her cheeks.

“It’s very scary to realize I know how you look like after having sex,” she says slowly. “But it’s even worse that you look like this right now… Oh my God, this is so awkward, I’m gonna stop right now.”

Jim feels a betraying blush creeping on his face and cleans his throat. “I could ask you why are sitting in pajamas in my apartment where, I know Bones is staying right now but you’re right, it is awkward.”

Nyota laughs and stretches, showing her bright colored pajama in de toute beaute. “You like it?” she asks playfully.

Jim squints his eyes to read the caption above a blue box like picture on her t-shirt.

“Doctor Who?” he asks curiously. Discovering his crew little and, usually innocent, insanities is one his favourite things.

Nyota sighs dramatically. “You, boys, don’t appreciate the beauty of 20th and 21th century television which breaks my heart. Take care, be good and please put a different shirt on before you talk to anyone else. Bye!”

She disappears from the screen before Jim has a chance to say goodbye and he can’t blame her. He’s still blushing and knows Nyota’s discovery must have almost as embarrassing for her as it is for him. He takes a deep and measured breath before calling Sulu, forcing any inappropriate thoughts about Spock and his body away. The last thing he needs is sporting a semi-hard while talking with his officer,  even if it’d be hidden from his sight.

Sulu answers almost immediately, as if he was waiting in the vicinity, expecting Jim’s returning call, much as Nyota and Jim grins widely.

“Captain,” Sulu smiles. “You look good.”

Before Jim can respond Hikaru joins Pavel Chekov, who is grinning happily and wearing an old T-shirt looking suspiciously too big for him.

“Hey guys,” Jim quickly composes himself; having spent last night sharing the bed with his first officer he has nothing to complain about, maybe only Pavel’s age. Not that he would the situation being different. “You wrote me something about possible changes in the piloting system?”

“Yes, captain,” Sulu starts, frowns and pauses, gently elbowing Chekov and pointing at Jim. 

“Do I have something on my face?” Jim asks impatiently, looking between openly laughing Sulu and slightly blushed Chekov.

“Not exactly on your face, sir,” Pavel offers, blushing harder. “More like on your neck?”

Oh, damn. The recollection of Spock’s imitation of vampire from the night comes back to him immediately. That’s why Nyota told him to change his shirt. For a second he thinks fervently about blaming some random hook up but no one would believe in possibility of finding one on Vulcan so he smirks instead.

“I’m not asking you why Pavel is in your apartment wearing not a T-shirt that isn’t his,” he replies, smiling broadly. Pavel blushes even harder turning into bright red and confirming suspicions.

“So what about the piloting system?” Jim takes pity on his young navigator and soon Hikaru is sending him diagrams, explaining how they can make the piloting system more efficient and instinctive. Jim falls silent after some time, observing bright-eyed Pavel gesturing wildly while pointing out a particularly important change. It gives him an imminent pleasure to see his crew members so interested in making the Enterprise even better.

“Scotty was right,” Jim finally says when his friend pauses, waiting for his acceptation. “You’re both mad bastards and you’re absolutely brilliant.”

“We have your permission then, captain?” Sulu asks, serious again.

Jim shakes his head, disbelieving. “You really have to ask? Of course you have!”

They both smile, Pavel already underlying something in his notebook.

“Good bye, captain,” Hikaru says, peering over Pavel’s arm with a fond expression. “Hope to see you soon.”

“You will,” Jim promises, ends the connection and stretches, his body stiff after the night activities and maintaining the same position for too long. The room around him is semi-dark again, the only light source being the computer monitor and Jim realizes he has no idea what time it is, the whole day passing in some strange, dream-like way.

“Captain,” Spock says, appearing in the door in this stealthy way of his. Jim turns to him, smiling already reaching to him with reprimand about using his title in privacy but he falters feeling a sudden wave of uncertainty, awe and fear coming from the half-Vulcan. It lasts only seconds, shields strengthen almost immediately but that’s enough for Jim to jump into action.

“Spock?” he says anxiously, crossing the room to stand close to his lover, not  touching but within the hand reach. “Is there’s something wrong?”

“While I was meditating earlier this day I found myself yet again in the position of not being able to achieve complete peace. What I did not expect is a strong anxiety I started to feel,” Spock says quietly and gently, fleetingly touches the exposed skin of Jim’s arm. “I still cannot believe you feel no anger toward me, t’hy’la.”

Jim leans toward him, knowing words won’t convince Spock.

“Stop shielding,” he whispers against his lips and kisses him, gently, patiently until Spock opens his mouth under his touch and their tongues meet, a shudder of pleasure coming through entire Jim’s body. He’s not sure when Spock manages to hold him up against the wall, answering to the unspoken need,  but when the half-Vulcan skilled fingers pulls his flyer down and give the first brush his cock all thoughts vanish from his brain.

“I heard…” he gasps when the next brush becomes much more insisting. “I heard you can make someone come without touching.”

Fingers disappear from his erection immediately and Jim swears he sees a smile on Spock’s face. When the very same fingers touch his face in the meld points he sighs and closes his eyes, waiting for the chaotic rush of colors and emotions. But it doesn’t come- this time there’s an unmistakable sound of people kissing, a heavy smell of sex, a sound of moan… Then suddenly something clicks- he is the one kissing and being kissed, his penis buried deep in the inhumanly warm body under him. Jim finds himself fastly approaching a very strong orgasm, the familiar tension already building in his lower abdomen. He comes with a sharp cry and opens his eyes, gasping for breath, to the dimness of the room. Spock is holding him upright, the expression of utter smugness clearly visible in his eyes, any traces of anxiety wiped away.

“Wow,” Jim murmurs, his brain still trying to process what just occurred. He looks down, noticing the white spatters of his come on Spock’s dark pants and the very notable bulge. Apparently Spock learnt from the first mistake and shielded himself from the onslaught of Jim’s euphoria. Jim waits for a moment longer, his heart beat finally slowing down before he falls to his knees and hastily opening Spock’s fly. The half-Vulcan arches under his touch and when Jim swallows him with the easiness coming from a long practice his long fingers find their way into Jim’s hair, tugging and showing the right rhythm. It doesn’t take long then and when Jim wipes his mouth clean with his hand he vaguely wonders how much longer they will behave like a couple of horny teenagers. Not that there are any reasons to complain but it’d be nice to last a little longer for once.

Spock make a strange noise then, making Jim frown and look up; he stares for a second not quite understanding what’s happening when the realization hits- Spock is laughing. Jim comes to a standstill, observing him with wide eyes, not really believing his luck.

“You are broadcasting very loudly,” Spock explains and helps Jim to stands up. “Also I do not have any complaints as well.”

They settle on the bedtogether, Spock already checking something on his PADD; Jim suspects that he wants to take use of the general renovation of the Enterprise and rebuilt the science labs. Which is exactly the same thing Bones wants to do with the sickbay. Sometimes they are scarily similar.

Spock’s emotions fly freely through the bond, the general feeling of calmness and satisfaction making Jim a little sleepy. He stretches on the bed comfortably, noticing how quickly he started to treat Spock’s bedroom as their and quickly dismissing the thought. There will be time to assess their relationship later, much later, for now he simply wants to stay in this bed forever. Spock seems to sense and share this thought as he abandons the PADD and lays back, stretching on the bed comfortably. He resembles a cat even more than in the morning which makes Jim chuckle quietly.

Jim shifts a little, mindful of Spock’s leg tangled with his own and when his lover shows no signs of wanting to change position resigns himself to getting numb.

“Spock?” he says quietly and practically feels Spock’s attention focus on him. “I have a question? But please, don’t freak out…”

“I assure you that Vulcan do not freak out,” Spock answers immediately in the manner Jim learnt long time ago to treat as a playful one. If you could use such a adjective while describing a Vulcan, of course.

“You totally freak out,” Jim plays along but quickly become more serious. “Spock, listen, you said that the bonding ceremony is a matter of tradition rather than necessity but I still don’t know how exactly you bonded with me? I mean, you know I’m happy, I’m just curious.”

Spock is silent for a minute, scaring Jim a little- the half-Vulcan’s logical approach to everything apparently ends when it comes to Jim and their relationship, if the last couple of days are a clue. When a warm hands starts caressing Jim’s nape he exhales deeply.

“For a emotionally compromised Vulcan touch can be a dangerous instrument,” Spock says, continuing the long, slow strokes on Jim’s back. “When you laid on a hospital bed, alive again, I did not stop myself from reaching to you.”

His hands stop the caress so Jim changes his position and tightly embraces Spock who leans into the touch, accepting the silent comfort.

“In my compromised state I did not think about consequences,” he confesses quietly. “I could not control the turmoil of emotions and so I followed my need to touch you and your mind. I do not know the exact time our bond was created. Until you woke up I was not aware it existed. What I do know, however, is that it growth from my want to never lose you again, Jim.”

The emotions are clear in Spock’s voice, making Jim speechless with awe. Despite everything he already knows, the depth of Spock’s feelings toward him is still new and breathtaking. Not knowing how express all his emotions, he kisses Spock deeply murmuring “Meld with me” against his lips. Long fingers touches his face in almost questioning manner so he nods his head, confirming his need.

It’s different this time, less chaotic, as if their minds already knew how to react to each other.  The rushed rainbow of emotions and thoughts gives up place to an unmistakably earthly landscape; a long and straight, dirty road with green grass meadows  on the both sides, the sky above him cloudless and covered with stars, the Milky Way in clear sight.

Jim gasps in awe, looking at silver and gold lights on the sky for the first time since his death. They are as beautiful and cold as always and Jim trembles minutely, stilling under warm touch of his lover’s hand.

“Is it mine mind?” he asks. “Or yours?”

Spock looks up and shakes his head. “It is your mind, Jim.”

Jim sighs and puts his arm around Spock, surprised how real everything feels, as if they were truly standing under stars covered sky somewhere on Earth, far from any cities.

 “How it comes it’s so different from the previous melds?” he inquires, forcing down the incomprehensible surge of emotions that threatens to overwhelm him.

“Human consciousness needs a reference point and while it can be created by the consciousness itself the lack of therefore can be disturbing. Your mind instinctively is searching for a solution and this world around us- that is what it came up with. Also melds conducted during a sexual act tend to differ from those performed under different circumstances.”

Jim frowns, focusing at the sky and with delight observes the appearance of even more stars, feeling the soft amusement coming from Spock. The yawn surprises him in the middle of creating an apple tree and he realizes how tired he truly is.

He opens eyes in the bedroom, Spock hovering over him with fondness clear in his eyes.

“You should rest, Jim,” he says quietly.

 “Will you sleep tonight?” Jim immediately asks, remembering the amount of time Spock has insisted that Vulcan requires less sleep than Humans. Usually looking as he could topple over any given minutes.

“I doubt that, Jim,” Spock says gently, his left hand resting on Jim’s arm, his long fingers gently caressing the bare skin. “I do, however, require meditation. I believe this time I might be successful.”

“Okay,” Jim yawns, feeling his eyes lids becoming heavier with every passing second. “Have a great mediation time, then.”

Soft amusement comes through the bond, the mental equivalent of snort.

“Good night, Jim,” Spock says quietly.

Jim falls asleep to the gentle touch of Spock’s fingers on his back.

_The whole ship is shaking around him and Jim knows he doesn’t have much time left. He takes deep breath before knocking Scotty out, internally apologizing for it._

_The door leading to the warp core chamber looks innocently as if they didn’t protect a deadly poison and Jim pauses for a moment. As a captain he knows codes that will override pretty much everything on this starship- he spent a couple of weeks learning by heart all of them- but he has always hoped no situation would call for their use._

_And yet, here he is._

_He reaches toward the keyboard but his fingers don’t listen to him. The Enterprise groans and shakes around him even more but Jim is frozen to the place, unable to do anything, unable to force himself to enter the code._

_So that’s it. He won’t be the only one to die- he just killed his whole crew because of his weakness._

_He doesn’t realize he’s crying until someone’s hand gently wipes the tears away. He flinches, afraid, not ready to be seen in such a state but the touch persists and he finally yields, leaning into it for a moment. The calmness doesn’t last as the floor escapes from under his feet and Jim finds himself scrambling to his feet. The fear comes back with full force, making him feel sick…_

He wakes up with a start, drenched in cold sweat. Somebody is speaking some words but they don’t make any sense as Jim leans over the bed, conscious enough not to vomit on the bed but too drained to get to the bedroom in time.

Somebody is touching him, the hand warm as it was in the nightmare, when he chokes, emptying the content of his stomach on the beautiful wooden floor he vaguely remember admiring earlier this day.

“Jim,” a deep voice says quietly to his ear, breath tickling the wet with sweat skin of his neck and Jim finally realizes where he is. The taste in mouth is bitter and the smell of his own vomit makes him cringe but still he leans toward Spock, letting him embrace him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles when a couple of minutes passes in silence, broke only by his heavy breathing. “I didn’t… I thought…”

“Shhh,” Spock hushes him gently, tightening his hold minutely, sending feelings of safety and acceptance through the bond. Jim relaxes gradually, almost against his will, his trembling subduing, the sensation of being paralyzed with  fear and weakness fading in his mind. He finally untangles himself, feeling Spock’s hesitance.

“I think I need a shower,” he says quietly, the damp with sweat t-shirt sticking to his body. He feels rather than sees Spock reluctantly nodding his head and he very pointedly doesn’t look at the mess on the floor, his stomach still uneasy.

In the bathroom he once again thanks fate for Spock’s inclination for water showers; a sonic one would  do nothing to makes him feel better.

The cool stream hits his back almost painfully but Jim welcomes it, the sensation cleaning away the remains of the nightmare. He closes his eyes and forces himself to breathe deeply, counting each breath, a trick he learnt long time ago, in his childhood.

“May I join you?” Spock’s voice is doubtful as if he was sure his lover would protest against this idea but Jim simply moves over, making space for the half-Vulcan, bitterly wondering how far from the ideal scenario the sharing of the shower is, if his nightmares had to take even this simple pleasure from him. He dismissed the thought quickly when he feels the deep worry coming through the bond.

“I thought it got better,” he confesses hastily. “Since I came here I slept better.”

“I could sense your nightmares even through my shields,” Spock disagrees, one of his hands sneaking into Jim’s hair, his body pressed to Jim’s on the whole length.

Jim half-sighs, half-sobs and searches blindly for Spock’s hand, relaxing when the long and slim and yet so strong fingers tangle with his own.

“Nightmares are kind of every night routine for me,” he says quietly. “I just didn’t expect to have another one so bad.”

He feels gentle kiss on his neck, the most delicate brush of lips and it gives him the much needed courage.

“I don’t think I’d do it again,” he whispers. “I started dreaming about not being able to open this fucking door a couple of days before I came here and I first I didn’t understand. And then  it hit me- I wouldn’t open this door again, I wouldn’t die alone again and everyone would die because of that…”

He falters, his body tense, when he realizes Spock is no longer touching him and his mind is shielded from Jim’s. He turns back and presses himself to the wall, the stones cold and harsh on the skin of his back.

“Spock…” he says hopelessly, utterly convinced that he finally managed to make the half-Vulcan hate him but Spock doesn’t let him continue.

“Jim,” Spock’s voice has a harsh note, the one Jim hasn’t heard since their victory over Nero. “Do not attempt to apologize. You died for us. You found the only solution, a way that could save the ship and its crew and you did not hesitate. It was not a dangerous situation, you did not risk your life while simultaneously hoping for a miraculous remedy. Jim,” Spock comes a step closer, mere centimeters between them. “You knew that entering the warp core means death and you still did it. No one has right to blame you for not wanting to do it again. No one, not even you.”

The mental shields separating them fall down, anger almost bursting from Spock; Jim feels it with every nerve of his body like tiny electronic discharges, not painful but weird with its intensity. The involuntary gasp escapes him stopping Spock who blinks, his anger melting away and being replaced with worry and guilt; yet they both passes quickly as Spock raises his shields again.

Jim reaches to him when Spock waits for too long, needing the comfort of the touch, needing to know nothing has changed between them; Spock’s response is immediate and soon Jim’s being lead back to the bed, his hair damp, water trickling down his neck and back.

Spock must have cleaned the floor in the meantime and aired the room; it smells of the fresh night air, an exotic mix of flowers and something indescribable, pure and spicy in the same time.

“Can we just sit together?” Jim asks when they settle on the bed, not wanting to come back to the land of nightmares just yet.

“ _Fan-vel du aitlu,_ _ashayam **[1]**_ ,” Spock whispers and takes Jim’s hand, caressing it with his thumb, long, slow strokes along the palm.

They sit like this for a long time, observing the raise of the second moon and then the disappearance of stars.

Neither of them says a single word.

***

Jim wakes up feeling a touch of sun on his face; he blinks realizing he did fall asleep after all. The Spock’s side of the bed is empty but Jim knows his lover is close and while he’s not entirely sure if he suddenly developed an additional sense or it’s simply a matter of their bonds it’s comforting to know Spock didn’t run away after this horrible night.

He shifts on the bed and freezes.

About two meters from him Spock is tangled in himself in one of the most insane yoga- like poses Jim has ever seen. And he had slept with two different yoga instructors.

Spock seems to be lost in his inner world, his eyes closed so nothing stops Jim from admiring the slightly flushed skin- he finds the fact Vulcans flush green utterly adorable- the impressive strength of Spock’s lean body, covered only with loose pants. Even Jim’s frustration and lack of sleep can’t stop the fast and strong wave of arousal surging through his body at this sight. A couple of days ago Spock was practically untouchable, the most Jim could do innocent brushes, but now he can walk to him and claim as his own whenever he wants. The realization almost chases away the shadows of nightmare. Almost.

Spock uncurls, changing the position with such effortless elegance that Jim can’t help but feel envious for a moment, his own body never so graceful and after two weeks and coma even less so.

“Jim,” Spock says and opens his eyes. “All you need right now is time.”

 _Yeah,_ Jim wants to say, with all the bitterness he’s feeling but a loud chirp coming from Spock’s computer stops him- a signal of incoming video connection. Jim takes a long look at his own rumpled shirt and Spock’s bare torso, wondering for a second if their friends are ready for such a sight and slowly goes to the computer, feeling vaguely amused by Leonard’s possible reaction. The caller ID wipes any traces of humour from his face.

He clicks “connect” before Spock joins him, hands shaking slightly. Because of stress or anticipation? He’s not sure himself but when the middle-aged blond haired woman appears on the screen his heart makes a painful twitch.

“James,” she says softly, her smile weak, usually bright eyes dulled with tiredness and something indescribable.

“Mom,” Jim takes a deep breath. “I thought you are in deep space.”

Winona nods in agreement. “I was, I am. Had to work on the warp core lately, our silver lady is a piece of trash compared to your ship. Although after a little thought... I guess I’m wrong because your ship IS BEING REPAIRED AFTER IT ALMOST FALL FROM THE SKY.”

“Mom,” Jim flinches back from the screen but his sudden movement doesn’t stop Winona.

“And apparently my son DIED on its deck while saving the whole crew from certain death and part of the city from certain destruction!” she pauses, inhaling sharply and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I just wish somebody had told me,” she adds much quieter.

“Mom, but I’m here,” Jim protests weakly but stops under Winona’s gaze.

“Yes, you’re here, but if you weren’t? What if your friends didn’t do the magic? Would I have to wait for an official message from Starfleet, written by some intern and signed by random admiral without reading? I spoke with Leonard McCoy and I know you asked him not to inform me in case of any accidents and I just don’t get it, Jim, do you really think it’d protect me from heartbreak, that you could have died and I wouldn’t be informed about it, one way or another?” at the end of her rant tears are falling freely on her face and Jim can’t help but lean toward the screen, putting his hand on its surface as if he could touch her despite the distance separating them.

“Mom,” he says softly, brokenly. “I was angry, I never thought...” he pauses not knowing how to put his emotions into words but Winona nods her head and wipes her tears almost angrily.

“I know, James, I know,” she says gently. “God knows I can’t blame you for it.”

Jim gives her a weak smile, finding it lot easier than he thought. Winona sniffs, brushes back an unruly lock of hair and smiles back. “I was told you are staying at your first officer house on New Vulcan, is it him hiding behind you?”

Spock, who until now was hovering hesitantly in the background, obviously torn between wanting to help and soothe as well as giving some privacy, appears suddenly at Jim’s right shoulder, much as he does on the bridge of the Enterprise whenever any talks are made. The only difference is he’s still wearing only loose pants. Winona’s eyes widen at this unexpected sight and she breaks into warm smile, first real one since the beginning of the conversation.

“Hello, Mr. Spock,” she says. “I can see you are taking the best care of my son.”

“Mrs. Kirk,” Spock nods his head, seemingly unaffected by talking with Jim’s mother half-naked. “I am trying to do my best.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” something beeps in the background and Winona looks to her right sighing. “I’m afraid I’m needed in Engineering,” she hesitates for a second giving Spock almost pleading look. “Don’t stop caring for him, will you?”

“Not caring for Jim is not a possibility,” Spock answers immediately. “I promise you to, as human say, stay in touch.”

The smile Winona gives him is even wider. “Thank you, Mr. Spock.” She effortlessly forms her hand in ta’al, “Live long and prosper,” she says.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Kirk,” Spock inclines his head while Jim only manages to give a weak wave, too shocked for a proper goodbye. As soon as the connection ends he leans back, to rest his head against Spock, enjoying the warmness of bare skin under his touch.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “That was weird on too many levels.”

Spock brushes his hair with his fingers, another hand sneaking to his chest and holding him tight.

“Was my appearance ill advised?” he inquiries quietly, the slightest note of uncertainty in his voice. Or maybe it’s an impression coming through the bond, Jim isn’t entirely sure, but he grabs Spock’s hand, entwining their fingers together, fiercely sending how much he appreciates everything Spock does and knowing his lover can feel it with every fibre of his body. In no way he would be express the magnitude of his gratitude with words, in Standard or Vulcan.

“Can we talk about my mother some other time?” he asks finally, constantly attacked by weak traces of curiosity coming from half-Vulcan. “It’s just a little bit too much for one day,” he hopes it’s enough of an explanation for now.

“You need to eat,” Spock finally says, dropping the topic but Jim knows it will resurface on a more suitable moment. “I am not inclined to feel doctor’s McCoy’s fury directed at me,” he adds, when Jim shakes his head and tighten his hold of Spock’s hand, earning him a quiet snort.

Jim wanders to the kitchen after a short shower, feeling a little confused but much better. The call from his mother might have woke up some old issues but he’s practised in burying them deep. Spock’s words still sound in his head and no matter how guilty Jim still feels he can’t deny there’s some truth to them. He did die for his crew and that’s what counts now.

He enters the kitchen still deep in thought and blinks in surprise when his brain register the scene in front of him. Spock is standing in front of the oven, a pan in his hand, making pancakes. Delicious a little spicy smell fills the kitchen, making Jim painfully aware how empty is his stomach.

“Sit,” Spock gestures toward the table and dishes up already made pancakes, the purple honey sitting on the top of them. “You have appointment with the healer in two hours time. I asked T’Les to come, as she is the most experienced with treating humans,” he adds as Jim takes a bite of the pancake, tasting the strangely spicy sweetness of it, and decides not to ask what served as replacement for typically Earth products. Spock knows the list of his allergies better than Jim himself anyway.

Jim stops chewing and gives Spock a pleading look, but his lover’s steady gaze tells him whining wouldn’t be appreciated. He is fully aware he needs a check up, anyway, he might feel much better but dying cannot be treated lightly. At least Vulcan healers don’t tend to yell at their patients or use hypos as weapons of terror.

T’Les appears on house’s doorstep exactly two hours later, looking as strict as she did on the airport and wielding a significant in size leather shoulder bag. Jim can’t help but think about all the medical devices hidden in its depth and gulps. Maybe Bones isn’t so bad after all?

“I contacted your doctor, captain Kirk,” T’Les announces as soon as she enters the house in the very Vulcan strictly to the business way. “Your examination will proceed accordingly to his instruction.”Commander,” she bows hear head shortly toward Spock. “I must ask you to show me the way to room appropriate for such occasion.”

For a second Jim is terrified Spock will lead them to his bedroom- knowing the crazy characteristics of Vulcan’s sense of smell T’Les would be able not only to detect his night sickness but count how many times they had sex in there. Thankfully they enter the small room at the end of corridor, unused and almost empty save for a single bed.   

“I believe the examination should be conducted in privacy,” T’Les announces, looking at Spock as Jim, feeling almost worse than during his first appointment with venereal disease specialist, settles on the bed.

“Spock can stay,” he says quickly, not wanting to stay alone, even though the mental presence of Spock in his mind is even stronger than usually, and both Vulcans give him a terrifyingly blank looks. “If he wants, I mean,” he amends but Spock is already stepping closer to the bed, fulfilling his wish with no protest.

T’Les works in silence, rarely breaking it to give a short commend, unlike Bones who murmurs and talks to himself practically all the time, often cursing. Jim never understood how comforting is the constant noise until now, his skin crawling under the touch of her hands, despite the delicacy of them. Spock seems to feel his distress as shifts closer but doesn’t dare to touch practically naked Jim in front of another Vulcan. Instead of the bond lightens up with affection causing Jim to relax despite his discomfort.

“The climate as well as atmospheric conditions of our planet are not favourable to humans, especially those in recovery. While your state is better than during our first meeting I recommend return to Earth at earliest convenience, “T’Les announces as she finishes measuring his pressure. “ Do you get dizzy?” the sudden question, very Bones-like, startles Jim a little and he blinks, wondering if Leonard went as far as preparing a list of question of a Vulcan healer.

“I do,” he admits unwillingly and feels a short lived but intense spike of worry mixed with annoyance coming from Spock. “But it’s nothing bad, they don’t affect my sense of vertigo or anything.”

T’Les nods her head sharply, seemingly making some kind of mental note. “Nose bleeds?”

“Again, less often and much smaller,” Jim shrugs. “I’d say the climate and atmospheric conditions of New Vulcan pretty much agree with me.” It’s rude and Jim knows that- T’Les is not to blame for his aversion to anything medical but his emotions turn out to be much harder to control after the nightmare and Winona’s call, despite Spock’s help.

“Sorry,” he says, taking a deep breath and smiling apologetically at T’Les who switches off the last of her devices and puts into the bag.

“Apologies are illogical when no one was hurt,” she announces. “However, the faster pace of recovery is caused by the closeness of your bondmate rather than the planet.”

It leaves Jim completely speechless and he observes how Spock follows T’Les to the entrance in exhibit of very human habits without saying a single word of goodbye. Spock finds him still undressed and sitting on the bed upon his return, his face covered with hands.

“She knows we are bonded,” Jim mumbles, taking a quick glance at Spock through his fingers. “Did you tell her?” He has a sneaking suspicion Spock would never do such a thing even though it’s a favourable  explanation at this moment. Spock is his and he is Spock’s, and if their friends weren’t so damn perceptive Jim wouldn’t perfectly happy with not making it known to anyone, not on so early stage of their relationship and maybe not ever. If there’s one sphere in Jim’s live he’d be perfectly happy hiding from everyone else, it’s his love life.

“You are distressed,” Spock says slowly, almost hesitantly, apparently sensing this emotion is somehow different from the earliest ones but uncertain what caused the change. He sits beside Jim, not quite touching him, and Jim gradually relaxes, leaning into the inhuman warmness with scary easiness and resting his head against Spock’s shoulder.

“Does every Vulcan know we are bonded?” he asks finally, inhaling the spicy scent of Spock’s skin, seemingly amplified in the hot climate of New Vulcan. Spock tenses a little beside him, the newly discovered languidness replaced by more rigid posture.  

“It is caused by the lack of shield in your mind. Do you find it problematic?” he leans back from Jim, forcing him to straighten up and takes a long look at Jim.

“No! No, no, never. I mean, I kind of wanted to get used to being with you before I started to announcing to everyone but it looks like it doesn’t work this way. Should learn how to shield, though, can come in hand...” he smiles to Spock and feels a wave of unstoppable love coming through the bond.

The kiss he gives Spock is clumsy at best, teeth colliding unpleasantly but Spock kisses back with as much enthusiasm and much more finesse, gasping little in Jim’s mouth when tips of their fingers touch in Vulcan equivalent of human gesture in the way that will never get old.

“I will book us tickets to Earth today,” Spock murmurs when they break the kiss, tracing with his fingers the outline of ribs on Jim’s torso, still a little bit too visible for a man in Jim’s age and shape. Jim shivers under the touch, breathing deeply.

“You rarely touched me before,” he says slowly, observing the invisible patterns Spock’s is drawing on his body. “Unless you wanted to stop me from doing something you found stupid or illogical. Now you’re practically touchy-feely.”

He focuses on the pleasure coming from everything Spock does when a spike of tension comes through the bond. How the tips of Spock’s fingers feels on his skin, almost ticklish, how the difference of their bodies temperatures makes it even more pleasant, how Jim can’t help but react to every brush, even the most delicate one, with arousal.

Spock’s breath hitches a little but he continues with the lazy and innocent exploration of his lover’s body.

“In Vulcan culture,” he says quietly when Jim starts losing hope he’ll get his answer, ”touch is allowed only between those who share a bond or blood and only in private. Even though now even children are thought to shield, both from someone as well as from broadcasting their emotions, the privilege to touch and be touched remains to be limited only to those we find most important. Due to my mixed heritage I have been always more opened to the idea of touching. Probably that is the reason you find me “touchy-feely” now, Jim.”

Jim smiles, his eyes crackling with laugh lines. “I always knew Vulcans are deeply romantic,” he announces with the self-confidence that usually accompanies his strangest claims and hops off the bed. “If we are to leave in next few days I have a proposition. I don’t want to sleep in the house today, the last night... Well, let’s say the last night made me thought why wouldn’t we sleep in the garden tonight.”

“It’s...” Spock hesitates and Jim could swear he can hear the unspoken: “it’s illogical” but the end of the sentence is quite different: “it’s an interesting idea, Jim. I shall find suitable equipment.”

Jim sends a message to Bones as soon as he knows the exact time of their arrival to Earth and wonders vaguely if Leonard’s and Nyota’s time together were as intense as his with Spock but stops his imagination before it can show him something that needs to be censored. Bones is way too like an older brother to find thinking about him in sexual situations pleasant.

Spock prepares them something of a nest in the far corner of the garden, under a blooming tree, the  scent of its yellowish flower sweet but delicate. Jim settles down immediately when they reach it, seeing through the branches first stars to appear on the sky, silver and distant, their light cold.

“I miss them,” he says softly, feeling how Spock searches for a comfortable position beside him to finally give up and rest his head on Jim’s shoulder. “So many people had died and...” he swallows, his throat suddenly dry, “more will die. And I will blame myself for every single death.”

Spock hands finds his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but he remains silent, as always knowing what Jim needs most.

“Hell,” Jim laughs bitterly. “I’m sure I will be waking up dreaming about all this,” he makes a vague gesture with his hand, “more than a year from now. Or think about this woman who lost her kid and  husband. But I still want to fly among stars, you know? Somehow when I’m high there it doesn’t matter how fucked up I am, how many nonsense limitations people tried putting on me. And with you beside me... I know I will be happy. Let’s fly among the stars together again.”

He doesn’t see the smile that stretches Spock’s lips, his eyes fixed on little sources of light on the evening sky but the steady beat of Spock’s heart by his side and the warm touch of his hand is all the answer he needs.

 

 

  


* * *

[1] Whatever you wish, dear.

**Author's Note:**

> Took me long enough to finish this story (the fact that a random Pintostory happened in the meantime didn't help). But, finally, here it is, a second version of this story, written in pain (seriously my elbow is killing me today)but mostly in the spurts of insanity. As per usual unbeated and written by someone whose native language in no way resembles English.  
> All comments would be much appreciated and I hope you enjoyed this little story!


End file.
